was night. Far on the horizon became a rider waved the flag and drove off. It was a sign. It started up. We're in the ass said to himself Slainin. He was right, did not even know how much. In the fortress there were only two thousand men armed for war, and there, behind the hill ten times as much, trained in the art of killing warriors. At dawn, everything was about to begin. Enough food stocks quietly for months, but who after that time will still be alive? Nobody. Yet no one survived the siege by these savages, especially when he leads them Al'Hazim. Only a miracle can save us, but miracles do not happen without him. Slainin stood there for a moment in the window and began to get ready. Get ready to die. Armor still looked great. Glossy, with golden ornaments, the lightest metal alloys, and at the same time harder than a rock. Without draśnięć, no dents. She looked exactly the same as at the date of the first battle. A sword, passed down from father to son, could remember the origins of the first era. After his blood running down the blade of the first invaders, and yet it was still sharp. Slainin improved once all the belts and buckles, put his sword into the sheath at his belt, he took a helmet under his arm and walked out. The sun had already aroused from his sleep and showed its first rays. In the courtyard, gathered all able to fight. Most were boys at the age of thirteen, maybe fourteen years old. Do not know the fight, but they knew that they must fight to survive. Each of them had a sword. Elders who could use a bow stood on the walls. On the green plain of the claim has already faced a catapult, trebusze, siege towers. Al'Hazima soldiers ready to fight. We could hear their laughter, their songs toting combat.
tbc
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